7 Years Later
by Genox
Summary: 7 years after the last victim. It's been a long time. But a new game is about to begin, and the past survivors will be right in  the midst of it. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

**AN: This is my Saw Fanfic '7 Years Later'. The story will focus on the survivors of Jigsaw's past games as a new game rises. Fisk (Pretty much the only cop still alive at the end of Saw 3D) is the main character. Please R&R.**

_"GAME OVER!"_

Dr. Lawrence Gordon closed the door to the bathroom. The one that had held so many memories for him. But now he was not the victim. Now he was the one in charge.

"NOOOOOO!I'LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD F*CK!"Hoffman screamed from behind the door. Hoffman was a murderer, a complete psychopath. Impossible to sympathize with, and certainly endowed with a great will to live. _He'd do anything to survive, _Gordon thought. _He could easily get out if he wanted to. I have no choice... I can't let him hurt anyone else, _Gordon reasoned.

Dr. Gordon turned back around. He pulled out his silver revolver, the same one he had shot Adam with. _Adam. Poor man. I said I'd come back. I did. But it was too late. He was already dead._

**THE BATHROOM, A YEAR AGO:**

_Gordon opened up the door. He limped in with his freshly replaced foot. The whole bathroom stank of death and grime. He looked around the bathroom that he had been trapped in, not even a week before. Blood stained the floor. He looked over to see his friend. Gordon recoiled at the sight of his friend's dead body. "ADAM!" he screamed. He ran over to the body, which lay still. Gordon put his hand to his friend's throat. "No pulse..." He grabbed Adam's hand. It was cold and covered in dried blood. _

_ After a quick examination, he determined that he had died of suffocation. He had been murdered. And judging by the rotting of the body, he had been dead for less than 12 hours. _

_ "NO! This wasn't supposed to happen... I failed you, Adam. You didn't deserve this. I..."_

_Gordon began crying. Even though he had only known Adam for a short while, he had become his best friend in a short while. This was like losing someone from his own family._

_ And in the space of five days, Jigsaw had recruited him to help him. He had agreed, because Jigsaw had told him he would be able to see Adam again... but it was too late._

_ Gordon pulled a key from his pocket. He placed the key in Adam's hand. "Take it for me. I hope it'll help you where you're going."_

_ Gordon stayed for a long while, grieving over his friend's death. Eventually, he stood up, grabbed the gun he had used to shoot Adam, and then he left._

_ He turned around one last time. "Goodbye Adam."_

**PRESENT TIME:**

Gordon laughed. What would Adam think now? He'd probably be mad at him becoming one of Jigsaw's assistants. _And I call Hoffman a killer. What am I? _

Gordon opened the door to the bathroom. Hoffman stared at him. The expression on his face was one of pure hatred, that of a rabid dog. The scar along his face gave him the look of a grotesque monster. Hoffman screamed at him, "LET ME OUT OF HERE! HELP ME!"

Gordon pulled out his gun. Hoffman stopped screaming and looked at the barrel of the gun. The cold steel was pointed straight at his forehead. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you the same chance you gave everyone else."Gordon tensed his finger around the trigger. _Well, I'm certainly a killer now..._ With a sigh, Gordon pulled the trigger. A single shot rang out through the night.


	2. Seven Years Later

**A/N Thanks for the feedback on my first chapter. I have decided that I am no longer going to make Fisk the main character. Instead, he'll be the main detective. :)**

Jared woke up. He was in an unfamiliar room. It was old and had obviously suffered from years of decay. The crudely applied black paint had mostly chipped off, and he could see wood in some places.

It was nighttime outside. The moonlight shined through a skylight on the roof. There were eerie shadows cast by the moonlight. Other than that, the room was completely dark.

Jared realized that something was on his face. It was a mask, with two tubes running back into two beer kegs. He also realized that the mask was strapped onto his face by a leather belt. He was in a wheelchair."Is this some kind of joke? Hello? HELLO! Help! Please, anybody, help me!"

He struggled against the leather straps that held him down. But they wouldn't budge. He looked down at his legs. "Oh F**k..." He saw that his legs were clamped down by metal to the wheelchair. Jared tried to move his legs out of it, but to no avail. The cold steel would not budge.

The television in the corner of the room sprang to life. A demonic puppet appeared on the screen. Jared could only stare as the equally demonic voice gave him the path to freedom.

" Hello Jared. I want to play a game. You have spent a great portion of your life drinking. Drinking can be great fun, but when you endanger the lives of others when you drive in a drunken state, that's when the consequences come out. You have killed many with your drunk driving, and left many others without the use of their legs. You ruined the lives of not only the ones who you harmed with your driving, but also those who were closest to them.

Now I give you a chance to redeem yourself. The chair you are strapped in should be familiar. It is one that you have confined many to. It is a wheelchair. Now you must lose the use of your legs, just like your victims, in order to reach the key on the table in front of you. You must cut yourself loose. If you do not, the pig's blood contained in the kegs behind you will flood into your mask, killing you by drowning you in the blood you have spilled. Choose quickly, Jared. The clock is ticking. Live or die, the choice is yours."

"What the f**k! I'm sorry! I CAN CHANGE!" Jared struggled against the straps. The timer sprang to life. 90 seconds.

"Okay, I can do this..." Jared looked at the implements that the sick bastard had left him. Attached to the wheelchair was a small medical tray. On it were a pair of scissors, a dull hunting knife, and a hammer. "Oh god.."

The straps came loose as Jared tugged one last time. His arms were now free. Desperately, he grabbed the metal bars that clamped his leg to the wheelchair. Nothing happened. Jared looked over at the table again.

"God no..." Jared grabbed the knife. He began cutting through his skin. He bled as pain shot up his entire body. "AAAAGHHH!" he screamed. He kept on screaming until he got to the bone. There was no way the knife could cut through the bone..He grabbed the hammer.

"Sh*t, sh*t, shit...ahhh, aaaaah, AHHH!" He yelled as he pounded the bone. It quickly broke, and Jared grabbed the scissors and screamed in pain. The timer was halfway gone.

"No, NO!" his screams were muffled as blood began to flow into his mask. He was forced to swallow the blood as it went down his throat. He gurgled in pain and clutched his throat.

Focusing on the task at hand, he grabbed the scissors and sliced through the hard to cut tendons that connected his muscles to the bone. He gurgled again as he finally broke loose from his leg.

"I can... I can do it.." The blood loss was getting to him. His blood spilled all over the floor. His leg still stuck to the chair.

Suddenly, he went into a blood frenzy. He screamed and laughed hysterically as he sliced through his other leg. He felt no pain as he broke his leg once again. He didn't even bother to cut the tendons this time. He just ripped them out with his bare hands, spilling blood all over his shirt and severed legs, not to mention his face.

He fell to the floor. Seperated from his body, he crawled towards the table. 15 seconds. He kept on crawling. There was no time to waste. His blood trailed behind him. He was there. 5 seconds. "NO!" he screamed, as he realized that he could not reach the key on the table. "Please, oh god-" His screams were cut off as the blood flowed into the tubes and into his mouth. He clutched at his throat as he was forced to drink processed pig gore. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He could only stare into the air and watch his life flash before him, and the regret over come him as he drowned in blood and gore. He expired, finally, and his hands fell from his throat as his body relaxed.

"Game over, I guess," Jennings said. Fisk looked over at the CSI with an expression of disbelief. "Game over?," he said, "It always starts this way. A single test, and then comes the bodies. It never fails. This is just a sign,to tell us that he's back. Jigsaw, I mean."

The CSI looked up from his investigation of the legless body on the floor. It had been a week since Jared's death. The CSI and police were currently investigating the death of the man on the floor.

"Oh yeah? And what do you know about being tested, Fisk? I actually went through one of these. You have no idea what it feels like." Fisk glared at Jennings. "Well, I do know what betrayal feels like."

Sunlight flooded in through the skylight as Fisk walked out of the building. Jennings got up and told the other CSI to determine cause of death. "What I don't understand is the fact that Jigsaw's dead, yet this happened. A dead man can't make something like this. It's just not possible. Hoffman's been missing for seven years. Why would he choose to come out now? If he isn't dead already."

Jennings replied, "How about Gordon? He was a Jigsaw accomplice as well. He even admitted it." Fisk said, "The doctor's been in prison for seven years. He got 40 years. I don't see how he possibly could have broken out. But you might be on to something. We should ask him. Do an interrogation. It's a good place to start." Jennings agreed, " How do you know he doesn't have some influence outside of the prison? Or inside for that matter. Anyway, I should go. Good luck on that investigation."

Jennings walked back inside the building. "Cause of death is drowning. In pig blood. Poor sucker fought. But the key to his mask was just out of reach. The game was unwinnable..." The conversation faded away as Fisk walked to his car just outside. He got in and turned on the engine. "Jesus Christ, he's started again. Damn you, Hoffman."

The drive to the prison was rather uneventful. No real traffic, just an average breezy day, on an average fall week, in a rather average season.

Eventually, Fisk arrived at the county prison. He briskly walked up to the door to the prison. He opened it up and asked if he could visit Lawrence Gordon. He was taken to Gordon's cell, where the man was sitting on his uncomfortable cell bed. He had not been eating well, as shown by his extreme loss of weight over seven years. He looked at Fisk and laughed. "Detective, I presume? Come to interview me about Jigsaw? That's the only reason I get visitors, besides my former wife and child."

Fisk sighed."Yes, doctor, I'd like to know a few details about your involvement with Jigsaw."

"Doctor?"Gordon chuckled."I'm not a doctor anymore. But what exactly would you like to know? Talk as long as you like, I've got all the time in the world." Fisk looked at him again. The doctor looked haggard. He had a thick, tangled mess of a beard, and his hair was shoulder length and matted. He had obviously seen better days. "Well, I'd like to know why you did this." He pulled out a photo of the body at the crime scene. The doctor was obviously shocked. "What? No... I thought... I thought I killed him..." Fisk looked intently at the doctor's face, and after a minute, decided he hadn't done it. But Fisk was still curious. "Killed who, Gordon? Tell me. Please." Gordon looked up at Fisk. He stood up and backed toward the wall. "I killed that bastard Hoffman. How could this be?" Now it was Fisk's turn to be shocked. "Hoffman's dead? But... we haven't found a body. Tell me where his body is, now." agreed almost instantly. "Give me a pen and paper. I'll write it down." Fisk agreed to it, and gave him the pen and paper. "Here." Gordon said as he gave it back to Fisk. "Just make sure he's dead."

**LATER, AT THE NERVE GAS HOUSE:**

_This is where he lived. But we didn't find any sort of body..._ Fisk thought as he opened the door. He hadn't called for back up. He wandered around the house. He saw a bedroom with a massive hole in the floor. "Sure looks like it's been abandoned for a while." He opened a door and saw a living room. Nothing in it. But there was a strange square in the floor. Something looked wrong about it. He tapped it with his foot. _Hollow,_ He thought. Fisk looked for a latch and found one. He opened the trap door, and walked down the stairs. Pulling his flashlight out, he searched every corner, looking for some sort of door to a bath room. A figure rushed by him. _What was that? Where are you Hoffman you bastard..., _Fisk thought. He chased after the figure, who was incredibly fast. As far as he could tell, it was hooded and wearing a pig mask. He shot at the figure, who ran up the stairs behind him and shut the trap door.

Fisk was trapped underground now. He looked around, and then he saw it. An open door to a bathroom. The bathroom was covered in shadows. He walked towards the darkly lit opening and turned on the lights. The sharp lights hurt Fisk's eyes, and he quickly covered them. Then he saw them. The bodies. They were laying on their sides, and backs. One was wearing a white shirt, another was wearing dark black clothes and lay on the floor, and another one was sprawled along the floor. There was also a skeletal foot. _Not bodies... Skeletons._ Fisk realized. There was no Hoffman. Just three unidentified bodies, a foot, and an empty chain. No body. Maybe Hoffman was still alive. Fisk was just about to pull his phone out for forensics to get the bodies, when he saw it. One of the bodies, the one with the white shirt, was clutching a bomb on a timer. Fisk realized the danger he was in then. He ran for the trapdoor, only to realize that it was sealed shut. He kept running down the underground tunnels until he came into a room with a coffin at its center. Diving into the coffin, he closed the door as quickly as he could, just as the bomb went off and the tunnels and house were destroyed.


End file.
